Thursday, January 28, 2016

Back when I was interviewing for medical school in the mid-80's, I had one interview that was just an in & out same-day trip, with a 1 hour flight each way. So I wore my suit and went to the airport with just my wallet, plane ticket, and keys.

My dad, working in his unofficial capacity as the family travel agent, had found me a cheap ticket on Etohair. This airline (now long defunct) had the interesting approach of unlimited alcohol for all. So, being a Diet Coke and rum aficionado, and a poor college student, and hosting a party that weekend, I pretty much kept asking for another rum & DC at 5 minute intervals and pocketing the little bottles. The flight attendant knew what I was doing, but it's not like anyone else was different. No wonder they folded.

Anyway, after landing I caught a cab to the med school and stopped off in their lobby bathroom.

Looking in the mirror there, I suddenly noticed that my suit pockets were all bulging with little bottles that made it look like I'd been shoplifting. Having a fuck-ton of rum stuffed in your pockets, I realized, was not going to be conducive to a good impression for a guy hoping to become a future doctor.

I stood there, in a public bathroom in the medical school lobby, frantically trying to think. I had no bag to put it in. I didn't want to throw it away, either.

The janitor came in, wondered why I was taking so long to wash my hands, grabbed some toilet paper rolls out of a supply closet, and left.

And suddenly, I had an idea. Hoping no one else came in, I frantically yanked 20 rolls of toilet paper off the closet shelf, piled all the rum in the back, and put the TP in front of it.

I went on with my interview, wondering if the janitor was going to have a wild party at his place that night with my bottles.

After the last interview I ran in there, hoping not to miss my flight.

To my horror, the supply closet door was locked.

Using a credit card and my car key I managed to get it open. As I dug through toilet paper rolls for the rum, the school's dean (who I'd just interviewed with) wandered in, looked at me, and asked if I needed anything.

I mumbled "the stall was out of paper," grabbed a roll, and shut myself in the toilet area. I waited with bated breath while he peed and left (didn't wash his hands, either). Quickly grabbing my precious rum, I was still stuffing it in my pockets as I ran out to hail a cab.

I made my flight. Barely.

My roommate and I had a great party that weekend. We didn't run out of rum.

The fact that the Dean had to use the commoners can is telling, I suppose your Dad picked the medical school in must the same way as he did airlines. College travel stories are always the best. I remember coming home from my University of the Boondocks with my Winchester Model 94 saddle rifle on the plane, try that little trick now ans see where it gets you.

Bless you, Ibee, this made my day. A good, blow-it-out-all-sphincters laugh is worth the price of admission (or coping with the Blogger comment setup).

And, of course, the bit about the dean and the urinal reminds me of the time when my husband (then a graduate student) found himself in the men's room next to a committee chair in his department. After the two solemnly relieved themselves side by side, the chair said, "Don't ever get into administration." According to DH, the chair then "shook off, stuffed in, zipped up, washed off, and walked out."

This tells your age! This was obviously before the 3-ounce bottle rule and carrying booze on the plane! I had a friend who, as a starving college student, rode his bike to the liquor store to stock up for an end-of-term party, spending all of his carefully hoarded cash. The cops stopped him on his 10-mile ride home. They couldn't think of anything to charge him with and finally settled on over-possession (yes, there is such a thing!) and confiscated all his booze. Talk about police brutality!

Welcome to my whining!

This blog is entirely for entertainment purposes. All posts about patients may be fictional, or be my experience, or were submitted by a reader, or any combination of the above. Factual statements may or may not be accurate.

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